


letum [leti, n.] - death ruin annihilation

by WhisperOfTheDay



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Attempted Murder, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Mind Control, Suicide, graphic description of death in second chapter, no happy ending, parallels with types of cell death because i just finished a term paper on that, set in Uprising, written as gen can be read as whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24214576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperOfTheDay/pseuds/WhisperOfTheDay
Summary: Three ways Newton dies in Uprising
Relationships: Newton Geiszler & Hermann Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Kudos: 12





	1. autolysis

Walls are on fire, Hermann is stammering behind him, asking him why, in a voice that seems to come from the center of the Earth, and Shao bursts in

It takes a second too long for her to asses the scene, who's who, what is where, she doesn't spot the gun on the table, but she does react quite fast as Newt rushes for it

Newt trusted _Hermann_ not to make use of the weapon, of course, same can't be said about her. He should've kept it on his person. She should've run when she heard the alarm. Should've run for her precious wealthy life

there isn't a fight, she isn't quick enough. her hand only skids over his, nails leaving marks on his skin as he grabbs the weapon and pulls, feverishly, on the trigger

twice 

three times

fourth

exhale

short, but excruciating, like his lungs are expelling ash. the world is spinning, his skin's on fire and wet, he inhales. He's so scared. They got so scared. didn't they?

he cringes, there is blood on his clothes. is it on his face?? he begins wiping his face with sleeves and the back of his hands, one still holding the gun. He hears a loud exhale which came out a whine, and he remembers something way more important

he turns around

Hermann's eyes instantly jump up from the body on floor to meet his. He emits that whine again, the look on his face doing something weird to the brain-eating insects within Newt's entity. They bare teeth at that, they roar, spill like boiling acid out of every pore

Next thing it knows, the gun is trained on Hermann, Hermann is on his knees, head down, quivering, the gun is trained on Hermann, and it, Newton, is holding the gun, and it's being asked:

"Why, I n-need to know why, tell me why," non-stop he forces out through clenched, clattering teeth.

"What made you, w-who made you do this? Please," he looks up again, breathing heavily, eyes meet again, this time Newt sees so clearly it _fucking hurts._ "I n-need to know."

Newt sees so much in Hermann's eyes. Stuff he feared to see in them all the years they'd worked side by side. Judgment, lostness, affection.

He mumbles something in response, he tries to answer, or maybe he only does in his imagination, in his head. God, he hopes they could drift. Then he'd understand. He'd forgive him. 

He realises the gun is still pointed at Hermann's head. He jerks it away, using the other hand to cover the barrel, terrified it'd fire againts his will

He also realises Hermann is on the floor, tilted to the side, holding himself up by one hand while the other -

He realises dark liquid is sipping through Hermann's clothes where he grips his left thigh. He realises it's blood, from a gunshot wound, and he recalls the sound revibrating through his bone marrow. The fifth gunshot finally dragging him from the depth of insanity with its implications.

And he thought he could never hurt him, that nothing and nobody would be able to make him. How naive. He wants to laugh

but doesn't, and Newt realises he can move, think, see, speak. 

Disdain fades, rage fades, fear, malice and arrogance

everything

Everything comes together as the buzzing within him quietens. Instead come thoughts that he can make sense of, consciousness that becomes so dense it starts dripping from his nose

Overwhelming. Fuck, it gets so much more overwhelming. swirling red suddenly too bright through his widely open eyes, cutting inside everything that he is, even worse behind his eyelids as he closes them. There's no escaping

there's just no escape door

But, maybe for a second the perfect creatures have lifted their hold to gloat, or maybe- most definitely - the whole Anteverse is celebrating and blowing up fireworks because it bloody worked! They'll finally colonise this planet and they'll live on.

maybe the next glorious minute or ten they wanted to spend belittling this invalid human for being so blunt, so oblivious and stiff, to tell him how it was his fault, how mistreated their minion felt, so miserable they were able to manipulate his so easily. To see in the other's eyes how his insides crush, now his abhorrent mind burns just like their world has been burning for millennia, fuck they're tired of the fire. 

Maybe they wanted to overtake their human again and, laughing, shoot the cane man in the stomach, watch him whimper as the lab's floor swam in the same colour as the walls. Maybe they'd release the grip again then, maybe their human's terror and grief would overwhelm them, sparkling fury, they'd be reminded once again why they're superior creatures, as they don't know pain, loss and attachments, and they'd tell him this much. tell him to never forget how weak he is

but

they are never given the chance. their connection to Earth is cut off as abruptly as it was opened

with a deliberate jerk of a shaking finger. a press of a button, a click of a trigger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this series has been laying in my notes for two years, i decided wth, so here and Newt, Hermann. I'm sorry


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "es tut mir leid. Newt es tut mir leid es tut mir leid hörst du mich? Es tut mir Leid. Bitte. Newton, bitte.."

His air supply is cut off too suddenly, solid ground yanked from beneath him, he's being pushed up and backwards, by the neck, hyoid as if grinding into his spinal cord, it hurts, he can't breathe in and he cant breathe

Oh it so quickly appears to be the least worst thing.

Newt's face. Inches from his own, starts to blur, splashes of black dotting the picture. 

Hermann finds himself pleading, but only cracked sounds make it past his lips. His throat is dry, he can't breathe. He tries to beg with his eyes, he can't look away from the person he knew for half his life, trusted with his life, person that is so _slowly_ murderering him. And if a second ago Newt's eyes looked truly murderous, monstrous, apoplectic with rage, truly alien, now they are-...

Panic settles in every cell of his body. He doesn't want to die. he can't die _now, here, like this. he doesn't want to die. Newt._ Hermann can no longer see clearly. _No way, not- no, please._ He tries to say Newt's name, no air makes it past the obstruction, his body is on fire, his eyes seem to on the verge of popping out of sockets, the world darkens as his fingers scrape at the hand on his throat on complete autopilot. Last reserves, last thoughts, last sounds, he hears the weak and wet, cracking voice, not his, so close, as if it speaks right in his fading brain. 

"I-I'm sorry, H-hermann. They're in my head."

He senses his body collide with the floor 3-5 seconds after it actually does, thankfully alive enough to soften the fall with his hands on that same animalistic autopilot. He breathes, he just breathes, he can't understand why it feels like a miracle. There's cotton in his head and tons of water pressing on his eyes and ears pulsating in synch with his heart, he almost decides to lay down for a bit. Consciousness returns slowly, vision even slower

He jerks fully awake as the terrifying alien voices speak in his head again. But it's Newt speaking. And Shao is standing above him, also speaking, holding a gun, aiming at- **NO**

" _ **STOP!!!"**_

His cane collides with the barrel of the gun and Hermann thinks he feels the recoil travel up his arm as it fires. The sound of glass shattering is sharp, loud enough to cut through thick layers of polyethylene wrapped around his rationality. 

"Wait wait wait Newt's not in control of himself this isn't him-!!" he puts his hands up in surrender, to get her attention but fearing the weapon that she picks up again, he's hysterical, every intake brings pain, he still feels like one wrong blink away from darkness

Shots ring one after the other. More glass is in pieces in the air, there's a cry, a sound of something colliding with the wall

Shao stops firing and lowers the gun in a jerkish movement but otherwise stays completely still. Hermann turns from her towards the corridor. A hand splayed on the further wall is all he sees from behind the closer one, then it slips from view as its owner continues moving forward.

Three seconds later there's a soft thud, and right after - another one, a heavier one. Nothing else is audiable over the roaring of displays.

  
Only after he's made it halfway, it strikes Hermann it's faster and much less painful to stand up and walk rather than crawl on fours. He rises, using a nearby table for support, and runs? limps, turns in the door frame. 

He didn't think a single clear thought since he felt his trachea channel cease to exist, (which was way before Newt jumped at him) so he didn't think about what he expected. much like he doesn't think, can't think, after he sees Newt on the floor, by the wall, on his side, laying, unmoving, 

no, he is moving, under Hermann's frantical hands, body shuddering with gutteral coughs that barely have any force behind them, and gasping for oxygen inbetween. His face is fixed in an expression of confusion, agony in his eyes, and it's just blood, everywhere, more red it doesn't stop, flows in waterfalls out of his mouth and out of his nose and his chest and Hermann's chest and hands too, red on the purple floor and walls and in the air

Newt's skin is cold and clammy and _cold_ and wet under Hermann's palms which too are cold and dissolving in the omnipresent colour as he presses on the wound, dark brown deoxygenated blood, it gets brighter when exposed to air

Hermann finally breathes in and screams for help. It's definitely him who's screaming, because Newton is wheezing, shaking, struggling and failing to take in air- _tension pneumothorax, the left lung has collapsed, hypovolemic shock, cardiac tamponade - that's where the blood pours from- extensive internal bleeding, hypoxia YOU HAVE TO KNOW WHAT TO DO, DO SOMETHING_

  
but of course all he can do is cry for help, ask it of the very person who shot Newt, second responsible for the red all around, for the oranges and pinks and purples shifting like snakes on the walls, and the only one here the only person who can hear and maybe she's talking, maybe to him, maybe over the comms, maybe it's just his brain playing with him cause it's always his goddamn unreliable brain which is just never OF ANY _USE_

DO _SOMETHING_

_**HELP HIM** _

Hermann jerks, moves to stand up- he knows what to do he knows what he needs to do he can help he's almost delirious drowning in the sudden fit of optimism. _He can help he can he can-_ but the hem of his cardigan is trapped in an iron grip, the same one that was crushing his larynx an hour ago, and Hermann's head is again filled with that voice- voices- millions of warped screams, overlaying one another, condemning humanity of being too pathetic, condemning him- their little puppet, and the greatest person Hermann knows - of being too weak

  
Newt's face is distored by pain and rivers of blood that join the pool on the burnished glossy floor, and he keeps panting and his body keeps bleeding, but his eyes

they look right at Hermann, inside of him; they are filled with remorse, regret, resentment, deep rooted fear; with 10 years of loneliness and misery; the light in them has been extinguished a long time ago (and he never ever noticed, how could he not. notice), yet they shine, tears turn crimson as they slide down, because everything is red now, everything is dying.

Hermann wants to say that he'll come back shortly, that he just needs a needle _and a scalpel and ketamine and a tube and antibiotics and where can he get all that not here not now he can't-_

  
Before the helplessness -desperation inevitability, all of it, allways falls upon him at once- has the chance to render Hermann speechless, he feels himself being released, the pressure holding him frozen in place fading and falling to the floor listlessly.

Hermann tries to catch Newt's hand but fails to be fast enough, and it lands into the pool of red with a _plop_. Hermann grabs it nonetheless, by inertia, then lets go to pull himself up closer, to find his drift partner's eyes again, shouting his name, shouting something, his previous thoughts maybe, maybe pleas.

Newt's grey eyes are slightly ajar, looking up, and they are alive, _he's alive he can feel it_

but Newt's chest isn't spasming, he is coughing and whimpering no longer, face slack, emotionless and bleeding stopped and time stopped too

Hermann looks back up into those eyes, misted by detachment and humility and regret and fear

no

alive they are no longer

  
The man's mouth is filled with blood, a dark streak still moving down his chin.

He isn't breathing.

The light all around changes from swirling bloody red back to piercing bloody turquoise. Newt's blood doesn't change and doesn't disappear. The colour of Hermann's hands, the colour of everything in his line of blurred vission, stays the same. 

The world is safe, fixed, it isn't ending.

  
Hermann slides his hands behind Newt's shoulders. Draws him closer until his chest is pressed to Newt's. With his other hand he supports Newt's head, keeping it pressed into his shoulder. His mind screams, his lips stay silent. He thinks about nothing. There is nothing.

The world as Hermann knew it has ended


End file.
